Renata
I twist around. My bones don’t hit the hard, cold surface I’m expecting. Instead, I land on something that’s still got some resistance, but is incredibly soft.
That’s when the smell hits me. The mouth-watering smell of savory, fried food. Oh God. The hunger’s finally starting to affect my head.
Then I hear a sound, a scraping noise like nails on a chalkboard. And a cough. My eyes fly open and I sit up fast.
There’s a short table placed about two feet away from me. It’s full to the brim, absolutely groaning with as much food as I’ve ever seen in one place.
Pizza with gooey, melted cheese and thick-cut pepperonis. Burgers dripping ketchup and grease. Noodles in a red broth with shrimp floating on top. A plate bearing the biggest piece of frosted chocolate cake I’ve ever seen.
I blink, but the food doesn’t dissolve like I expect it to.
Clearly, I’m hallucinating. Which doesn’t trouble me as much as the fact that the hallucination refuses to budge.
“How about some dumplings?”
I gasp and turn my head away from the table to find Kian sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. He stands and drags his chair closer to me.
I look down, realizing that I’m lying on a thick blanket. And I’ve been covered over with a second one.
When Kian sits down again, he stretches out comfortably and pushes the plate he’s holding in my face. “Pork dumplings,” he tells me. “Best I’ve ever had.”
“I’m not dreaming?”
“I can see why you’d assume that, given that I’m here,” he says, “looking the way I always do. But no, it’s not a dream.”
I try to glare at him, but the food is messing with my head. I can’t seem to muster up enough energy even for anger. “You’re an asshole.”
“So you’ve said,” he replies with a shrug. “Multiple times. But you only think that because you don’t really know me.”
“So then tell me, eh?” I snap. “Tell me who you are.”
He cocks his head to the side as though I’ve asked him the one question he was hoping for. “Maybe eventually,” he says with a shrug. “When you’re in a more receptive frame of mind. And after I get what I want.”
“What is it that you want?” I ask suspiciously, trying very hard not to look at the food in front of me. Those burgers look so damn good. The chicken looks like it’s been fried twice. My stomach rumbles.
“Simple,” Kian replies. “You can ask me any question you want and I’ll answer honestly.”
“What’s the catch?”
“You have to eat.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“Quite seriously,” he says without the faintest trace of humor.
“You’ll honestly answer any question I ask if I just eat?”
“That’s right.”
His condition might almost be construed as concern. To someone who didn’t know any better, at least. But I do know better.
I glance towards the table and then back at him. He’s still given no indication that he’s joking. And I realize that my will is crumbling quickly. I’m not sure if it’s delirium or not, but it feels like a fair trade to me. I get to fill my aching belly and I also get some straight answers from the man I’ve spent my life orbiting around.
Of course, he might just renege on the deal. Or maybe he’ll just lie to me. But, as I look at the gorgeous bowl of creamy pasta sitting next to the pizza, I decide it’s a risk worth taking.
“Fine.”